


jonah magnus is NOT prepared to deal with peter lukas' bullshit

by LonesomeDreamer



Series: the adventures of an evil eye bastard and his lonely sea captain husband [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, LonelyEyes, M/M, Peter is annoying, and jonah just wants to work, as usual, but that's only in the epilogue, but when peter wants something..., jonah magnus wears clothing with way too many buttons, somehow the epilogue is longer than the actual chapter lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonesomeDreamer/pseuds/LonesomeDreamer
Summary: what it says on the tin.
Relationships: Peter Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Series: the adventures of an evil eye bastard and his lonely sea captain husband [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664716
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. leave me alone

“You’re being an annoyance. Kindly leave me alone.”

“Funny, saying that to a servant of the Lonely. You’d think I’d want to leave you alone. But I don’t,” Peter exhaled, giving Jonah a strange look. “You’ve been doing paperwork for the last two hours. It can’t take that lo—”

“Well, it does,” Jonah bit back, running a hand through his slicked-back brunet hair. “And the more you interrupt me, the longer it takes!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you get back to your ongoing love affair with time schedules,” Lukas groaned, settling himself heavily into a nearby chair and focusing his gaze on the older Brit.

They were seated in Jonah’s study, a room that seemed dedicated to displaying fine woodworking techniques and the affluence of its owner. The walls were paneled with lovely dark mahogany; the bookshelves and desk were of the same wood.

Magnus sat at his desk, looping cursive filling page after page of paperwork. A glass of red wine was barely an inch from his hand; occasionally, he would take a sip of wine and his many rings would clatter against the glass goblet. The room was filled with the sound of the pen scratching against the paper—and nothing else.

“You really don’t want to work, do you?”

Peter’s voice was quiet and smooth, which ordinarily would have set off a thousand alarm bells within Jonah’s mind—but, as it was, he was distracted by his paperwork. It was likely for this reason that he remained unaware of the other man’s movement; the captain, already gazing over Jonah’s shoulder, had leaned down further.

“Don’t be daft, Lukas,” Jonah muttered annoyedly. “I’ve got—LORD ALMIGHTY, WHAT IN—”

He twisted around in his chair, cheeks burning red, to glare evilly at Peter. The captain leaned back and laughed in such a manner that he was nearly cackling, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice, rather chuffed at Jonah’s reaction to a pinch on the behind.

“That was uncalled for!” Magnus snapped, voice cracking halfway through the sentence and flying into a higher octave. “I demand you—you leave me be to do my work!”

He whirled back around and just about buried his face in his papers, cheeks still burning red. The pen crossed the paper with renewed fervor; the new glass of wine that he had just poured for himself was swiftly consumed in one long sip.

The quiet remained for several more seconds before he straightened in his seat, squirming uncomfortably.

“...Peter, kindly refrain from breathing on my neck,” he hissed, shifting in his seat.

“Very well,” Peter huffed, rocking back on his heels and watching his husband with an unwavering gaze.

Jonah was more than aware that he was being watched, but he made no comment for some time. The clock in the corner ticked softly, his fingers drummed on the surface of the desk, metal rings clinked against fine glassware and still he did not say a word. It took fifteen minutes of this deathly quiet interaction for him to snap.

“My god, is ‘leave me alone’ in your vocabulary?” he snarled, slamming one hand down on the desk and spinning around. “Are you that starved for attention?”

“...Jonah, I’m an avatar of the Lonely. I don’t need attenti—”

“Well you certainly seem like it,” Jonah growled annoyedly. “Or are you just that sexually starved?”

Peter, with quite a big smirk on his face, gave Jonah a smug look. “Oh, only moderately, really. I think you’ve got me beat on that one right now.”

The noise that came out of Jonah’s mouth was somewhere between a strangled yelp and a moose dying.

“How dare you!” he screeched, squirming in his seat before making the—wise—choice to stand up. With Lukas seated, this meant he towered over the man.

“How dare I what? State the truth, Jonah Magnus?” Peter smirked, rising to his own feet. “Would you like me to state more truths, hmm? Don’t think I can’t see that you’re just _delighted_ by all of this. It makes you feel so _good_ , doesn’t it? Doesn’t it, Jonah?”

Jonah swallowed hard, staring into Peter’s eyes and trying to pretend that the other man didn’t have a slight edge of height over him. This thought soon disappeared, however, replaced by other thoughts of a very different nature. One pale hand went to his throat, nervously fiddling with his cravat.

Peter smirked, brushing Magnus’ hand aside and undoing the man’s cravat himself. He seemed quite pleased with his victory, in the most smug and gloating way possible.

“I knew you’d give in, eventually.”

“...I hate you,” Jonah muttered.


	2. jonah is still not ready to put up with peter's bullshit, but peter has the upper hand now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter has a bit of fun with jonah. (i'm really bad at these chapter summaries, i'm sorry)

Peter practically dragged his husband down the hallway by the other man’s cravat, which was halfway untied in all its frilly glory. Jonah had let himself go almost limp; his heels dragged along the ground.

“You couldn’t be any more unwilling, could you?” Lukas muttered, rolling his eyes. “At least act interested. I know you are, you’re terrible at hiding this sort of thing. You’ve been alone for so long…”

He tutted. “Dear me, Jonah Magnus, you’re ever so lonely. And _hungry_ , my goodness, little JoJo hasn’t been feeding the Eye, has he?”

“I. Am. Not. _Little_ ,” Jonah ground out, looking quite furious. “And the Eye has what it needs from me! I work differently than you do. My moves are calculated—and you know as well as I do that the consequences for neglecting an entity are quite severe.”

Peter pushed open the door to Jonah’s bedroom, tossing his captain’s cap onto a nearby chair before dragging Jonah over to the bed and pushing him down onto it.

“Perhaps,” he smirked. “I should have known—after all, you go through your cook’s full pantry in barely a week. You’ve clearly quite the appetite.”

Ignoring Jonah’s evident outrage at this last statement, the sailor pulled off the other man’s cravat and tossed it aside. He unlaced the other man’s shoes and let the black oxfords drop to the floor; next to leave Jonah’s body were the socks the older Brit wore.

“So many buttons, Jonah,” he chuckled, starting in on Magnus’ suit jacket. “You wear too many layers.”

“Says the ship captain who never shows skin,” Jonah muttered grumpily. “You brought me upon yourself, you know. That time you checked your watch. That bit of wrist-skin that I could see…”

Lukas was observing him, with great amusement, as the man lying on the bed flushed bright red.

“Victorian repression, I see,” he snorted. “Very well, Jonah. I will admit to wearing an equally preposterous amount of layers.”

By now, Jonah’s vest was halfway off; in just a shirt and trousers, he seemed practically naked. The older man ran a hand through his brunet hair, grumbling to himself before letting out a sudden squeak.

“Peter!”

The man in question was running a thumb along the shirt fabric that covered the bottom curve of Jonah’s stomach. There were a few buttons there that seemed a bit strained; indeed, it seemed that the man had the beginnings of a paunch.

“Someone’s let themselves go,” he smirked, voice dripping with a sing-song-y tone. “I never thought I’d see the day, little JoJo—”

“I’m _not_ little!”

“—finally letting himself go to his heart’s content,” Peter finished, smirking. “We’ll have to take you to a tailor.”

“I am most certainly not letting myself go,” Jonah bit back, although he’d crossed his arms protectively over his stomach. “And, clearly, all I need is a spot of exercise.”

“Mm, you and I both know you’ll never do that,” Lukas chortled, starting in on Jonah’s shirt buttons. He ran a hand over the man’s still-clothed midriff again; this time, Jonah shuddered and squirmed.

“Ah, so he likes it,” the Captain hummed, a glint in his eye. “How interesting…”

He laid a kiss to the tender spot right beneath Jonah’s jawline, provoking a whimper and more squirming.

“Slowly, Magnus. Wouldn’t want to rush in, would we?” Peter chuckled lowly, high baritone voice rolling richly into the surrounding air like caramel folded into rich chocolate.

Jonah was pinned against the bed, shirt halfway undone and fiddling hopelessly with his belt buckle.

“Take off your own damn clothes,” he wheezed, reaching up and trying to tear Peter’s long jacket off of the man’s shoulders.

“Alright, alright,” Lukas shook his head, sighing fondly, discarding the coat on the floor. Next was his captain’s coat, then his captain’s jacket, then his vest, then his sweater, until he was left there standing in bare feet with trousers and shirt.

“Get down here, you filthy tease,” Jonah hissed, tugging Peter down to him by the collar and kissing him rather sloppily. “I haven’t got time for your games.”

“You’ll play them, or you’ll get nothing,” Peter replied coldly, giving Jonah a stern look. “Don’t you want to be _good_ for me?”

A shiver ran down Jonah’s spine at those words, and he only managed a nod to accompany his faint whimper.

“Good,” Peter smirked. “Now, I think you still have a few buttons that need undoing.”

~XXXXX~

Several hours later found them hopelessly tangled in the sheets, Jonah almost entirely wrapped up in Peter’s arms. The former was making a fuss about the sailor’s beard.

“It’s far too greasy right now,” he muttered in complaint. “You need to take proper care of it, or I will.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Peter replied, still smirking slightly. “After all, I think you have ample experience in personal grooming.”

He playfully nipped at Jonah’s ear, but the man batted him away in favor of a kiss on the cheek. This seemed to irk Peter, who began hunting for the most awkward places he could kiss his husband.

“You really have been indulging yourself, Jonah. Of course, you’re rather cursed; those feminine hips of yours give you the most _attractive_ figure. You’d be even more handsome if you let that fill out a b—”

“I don’t have _feminine hips_!” Jonah growled, turning red and letting one hand fly to his chest in shock. “Just because I’m high-waisted doesn’t mean I have feminine hips! And I’m not fat!”

“Ah, so you admit it,” Lukas laughed. “And no, you’re not fat. But you’ve let yourself get quite soft, you know. Be aware…”

Amongst the sheets, he found Jonah’s hand and kissed it. “You were wonderfully submissive, my dear Jonah. This outer softness must be affecting your mind. I think it would be lovely to spend the day here, in bed...”

“I’M NOT—oh, I give up,” Jonah groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “I hate you, Peter.”

Peter smiled brightly.

“I love you too, Jonah.”


End file.
